


The war outside our door keeps raging on, hold onto this lullaby

by the_scent_of_your_memory



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe, Banter, Christmas, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rimming, boyfriends being stupid, fuck i almost forgot about that, i guess, lot of that, no really, oh god i'm shit at tagging, so stupid it hurts my soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:31:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_scent_of_your_memory/pseuds/the_scent_of_your_memory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam and Louis are boyfriends. But not really, no. </p><p>And they love each other passionately and with all their hearts. But again, no. Not really.</p><p>(or maybe yes.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The war outside our door keeps raging on, hold onto this lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well, well. So this immense mess was meant to be over and posted for Christmas, which is something i failed to miserably. Sowwy.
> 
> This is all for [zappydaddilou](http://zappydaddilou.tumblr.com/) who prompted for it and bitched the living shit out of me to write it exactly as she wanted it. The prompt could easily be summed with "i want a xmas lilo where they are very stupid and fight a lot" and the later "ah, i forgot to tell you i want liam's tongue somewhere inside louis body which is not his mouth. and no, no his nose."
> 
> A massive thank you to [calmlikeyou-dk](http://calmlikeyou-dk.tumblr.com/) who was masochist enough to agree to take upon herself to look this thing over.
> 
> I am [poopydoopylou](http://poopydoopylou.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

Liam thinks there must be something strangely morbid about their relationship. 

Well, _hello_ , it’s not like it’s something new, he already _knows_ it and it shouldn’t be funny how there are some very important aspects of this thing he has with Louis that he can’t physically explain in rational terms.

He has tried so many times to rationally look at some of the things they do and understand how, and most of all why their relationship unfolds as it does. Routines than he can’t pinpoint when they started, when they became so natural and started to feel so necessary, somehow.

Like, he’d love to know why there is this unspoken rule that states that Louis has some unknown inability to pick up his bloody phone and use it to text him during the day. Like he will get some sort of strange disease if he graces Liam with a message to inform him that he’s still alive and not planning to fly off to Honolulu and marry a native and have twenty children with him because it’d be unfair.

Liam called dibs on that long time ago.

And he’s actually asking this to himself while he’s driving to Doncaster, roads almost clear, with just a few cars taking over Liam’s shitty car, fingers curled around the steering wheel and Louis snoring in the passenger side beside him.

And like, he knows he’s not really sleeping, because he’s making sounds with his throat and snores are produced by the nose (Liam has a degree on snoring, shut the fuck up), and he’d like very much to know why Louis feels the need to pretend to be asleep while they are going to his house to spend Christmas with his family.

The problem is that he’s getting so used to this whole my-not-really-boyfriend-Louis-is-kinda-weird that he can’t even find the strength to get annoyed, opting for plastering a smug and fond smile on his face because he’s in love with that idiot, and he so unbelievably okay with that.

He sets his attention back to the road, since, you know, he’s sure that if he crashes the car against a wall Louis wouldn’t be so pleased with him and even in his imagination if they are both dead Louis would still be a real bitch about it.

The car is warm and with the soft buzz of the radio playing, Liam sinks into a blissful feeling of calmness and tranquillity.

It lasts not as long as he would have liked it to, because soon Louis is stirring in his seat, yawning and rubbing both hands in his eyes. He looks sleepy and a little dazed. Maybe he _was_ sleeping, after all. It’s just. Liam is so used to Louis doing things just to piss him off that it’s almost unsettling when he has to acknowledge that maybe Louis sometimes does things for _reasons_.

Louis is looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes and ruffled hair, blinking a couple of times. Then he pouts, shifting in his seat, resting his knees up on the dashboard. “You weren’t even going to wake me up. Do you really hate me that much?” and Liam doesn’t even dignify him with an answer because this is not really the time to remind him that no, he doesn’t bloody hate him because instead he’s so fucking in love with him that it hurts his soul.

And so he laughs, because that’s how it has always been with him and Louis, in this impossible and dysfunctional relationship which doesn’t make sense but that neither of them seems to be able to let  go.

He remembers the day five months ago when Niall came to their usual spot under the great oak in the campus garden where they have their lunch, with this loud, obnoxious, boisterous, and annoyingly hot guy tucked under his arm, claiming “he’s a real laugh this one”, who sat next to Liam and simply started eating Liam’s fries and told him that with buzzed hair his head looked like a light bulb.

Love at first sight, really.

And Liam tried, like, for real, to like him, because Niall was so unbelievably fond of this idiot with deliciously small shoulders and blue eyes and slim hands that Liam wanted all over his body, and lips that he desperately wanted on his skin and---Yeah, he can see now how all his reticences literally crumbled because Liam Payne is so weak, so fucking weak and Louis Tomlinson’s main goal in his life was just to show him that, with his stupid backhanded comments and pornographic smart mouth and--- _Anyway_.

And see? Is this a great and perfect _something_ of his and Louis’ relationship? Like, it goes always off topic, swerves into random things and unfolds chaotically when thing could be so bloody easy if they just stopped for a minute and _talked_.

Unfortunately Liam Payne had to face the reality that when he sees troubles, instead of taking another way like any other normal and clever person would do, he like, completely throws himself head-first at them. And so that’s why he decided to treat his crush on him as a mere passive form of knowledge, to surgically remove his crush on Louis and cauterize him out of his system. They started this thing where they preferred to hate each other as a way to show the fact they wanted to ravish each other against a wall, quite a lot, if we have to be punctilious, and that underneath all the awful things and insults that were said to one another in their language maybe they meant something like “hey, I might like you, let’s fuck”.

Kind of.

He still doesn’t know, though, how he ended up after a month of knowing him shoved against a cold brick wall with a very angry and drunk Louis Tomlinson licking inside his mouth and grinding against his crotch just outside the club where Liam was sure their fight was going to end in blood and a lot of broken bones.

The thing ended with three orgasms (Louis came in his pants, ha), quick and messy blowjobs and very, very sticky underwear. And the only thing broken was Liam pride, but nothing that one (or eight) cups of vodka couldn’t mend.

And that’s how _LiamandLouis_ started, sort of, actually, tinted with the glaze of a night out which got them here, tequila shots or too many bottles of wine leading the way. Because they never truly talked about what the hell they were doing giving each other handjobs in the school restroom and spending almost all their free time together snogging their faces off and having maybe a tad too much sex, but hey, who’s Liam to complain?

He tried to parcel up all his Louis feelings, to keep them neat and organized and clearly labelled _things to forget_  and stopped it there, because wanting to properly be with Louis was very nice to think about, but innately and stupidly unrealistic, and anyway even if it was manageable, he wasn’t sure what he’d even do once he got there.

But then Louis very unceremoniously straddled his lap while he was sitting on a bench outside his Biology class with Harry and Zayn, and without that much of a warning said “so, you are coming with me for Christmas,” which wasn’t even a question, just a mere statement as if it was something normal they did on a daily basis, inviting each other to meet the family for Christmas as what? Boyfriend, friend, person-I-used-to-hate-because-I-couldn’t-stand-how much-I-wanted-to-suck-his-dick-and-now-I-do-suck-his dick-but-still-hate-him, he doesn’t know. But he couldn’t really find a reason to say no, so he just shrugged and planted a bruising kiss to Louis’ dry lips.

The whole story seemed way more romantic while he was living it, to be honest. Now though--oh, who cares.

Liam’s startled out of his reminiscence by Louis’ finger poking at his cheek.

“How opposed are you to road head?” Louis asks, when they’re halfway there.

Liam swallows. He wants to punch him in the face so much it hurts. Swallows again. “I’ll crash the car,” he says, “and I’m quite fond of it, you know.”

Louis pouts a little and slumps back in his seat. “Alright, I’ll wait,” he says, “but only because I kind of like you.”

“Right,” Liam says, and runs one red light before running another.

_

 

When they arrive in Doncaster late that night, it’s nearly eleven and Liam’s dick is going to explode in his pants. Evidently saying no to road head to Louis doesn’t automatically imply no to continuously touching and rubbing his hand over his crotch without doing something proper about it.

So yeah. His dick is hard as a rock and Louis literally passed out on his bed as soon as they entered the door.

Wonderful. Like, really. What are the positive sides of having a cockslut as a not-so-boyfriend if you still end up with blue balls on Christmas Eve and probably have to sneak into the bathroom to have a wank?

His life sucks.

But he’s too tired to dwell on the disgrace that his existence is because he has things to do, as like, climb another rung of the metaphorical ladder of mental illness by running to the bathroom and masturbating like a dirty wanker (how apt). But he’s so tired he can’t even find the strength to jerk off, so he strips down of his clothes, crawls in bed next to Louis and snuggles closer so he can rest his head on Louis’ slowly heaving chest.

Snowflakes are bright white against the heavy gray sky and Liam feels like he’s drowning under the weight of all these intense and complicated feelings he has for this riddle in a human form. He breathes out through his nose, sharp, the world blurring out until it’s just the moonlight licking his shivering skin. He closes his eyes, waits for his heartbeat to slow down, but then there is a hand on his clothed dick  and he can feel Louis grinning from above him and well.

Sleep can wait.

_

 

Liam wakes up with a very _, very_ annoying Louis shaking him awake.

He’s going to kill him.

“Fuck Liam, bloody wake up.”

To kill him and---and his family and his friends (except Niall. He’s pretty fond of him) and he’s not going to feel sorry for it, not even a bit.

“What the hell Lou. It’s arse o’clock in the morning. Go back to sleep,” he mumbles against his pillow and he feels like crying but won’t because _dignity_ , or something like that. He knows he lost it somewhere between blowing Louis Tomlinson off on a night bus and hitting his own eye with his dick when the bus turned at a crossroads, and then proceeding to slowly fall in love with the same guy who broke into hysterical laughter when the I-got-blinded-by-a-dick incident happened which, in Liam’s opinion, maintains its position as the peak of Liam’s fall into ridiculousness and sequential mental instability.

“But I _can’t_ Li. I got—I got to tell you something. I’m— _oh my god,_ I’m love with you, _Liam_ , and no, no, fuck, do something.”

Liam raises his head from the pillow and settles on staring blankly at him. He wonders what he must have done in his previous life to deserve this. Surely not something nice, but _damn_ , he’s a good guy, he does all his homework and tidies up his room. He always pays his rent on time and calls his mum everyday. He was not meant to handle a Louis Tomlinson.

“Don’t look at me like that, you idiot, this is serious. Do something,” Louis snaps at him, a deep frown creases his forehead and even in the dark Liam thinks Louis is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Liam sighs. This is his life, apparently. “Do you actually realize you told me you loved me like, two months ago, right?”

“Yeah I know but I was joking--,” Louis groans, “—now it’s serious though and I’m fucking fucked.”

Louis’ hair is tousled with sleep, his face riddled with hollows and lines carved by his pillow, but his eyes are so bloody blue Liam feels like he could drown in them and not even care. “So you are telling me you’ve been lying to me this whole time and you just magically realized it today?”

“Yeah,” Louis says exasperated, “I woke up an you were here, in my childhood bed, looking all cute and I though, well fuck, he’s always around, I might as well love him for real, and I really wanted to suck your off—“

“ _Louis!_ ”

“—and I felt this immense sense of warmth in my stomach and either I’m pregnant--”

“Oh my fucking god.”

“—or I’m in love with you, which I seriously don’t know which one is worse but—“

“You son of bit--“

“—now I have to deal with these _feelings_ and I’m scared okay?” Liam looks at him in the eyes and see the fear, a fear he doesn’t quite understand because his own is there for different reasons, is there because Louis has it in the first place, and the last thing he wants is to get his heart broken because Louis can’t deal with letting his guards down enough to let Liam in. But Louis knows Liam would never hurt him, not even if he tries, so he really doesn’t get why he’s so afraid of letting Liam love him, of letting Liam see Louis’ cracks, all his scars, all the signs of how many time he has been broken, and how much it hurt.

Liam takes a long, long breath and closes his eyes. His life is a pantagruelic steaming pile of dog poo and Louis bloody Tomlinson is like the cherry on top of the whole stinky mess.

“Why are you scared?” he asks, assuming the voice he knows helps Louis to open up a little, a voice low and warm, not demanding, really, always leaving a choice to escape when everything becomes too much.

“You ever feel like you’re too much of a wretch to exist and you shouldn’t be allowed to interact with other humans because you’ll just take them down with you?”

Liam moves to stand up and get out of bed, because this is ridiculous. He thinks _yeah, I know, because you did take me down with you_ but he refrains, so he bites his tongue then mumbles “I think you have some serious problems and I’m not ready to deal with them this early in the morning,” before a hand around his wrist stops him on his tracks.

“But you are my boyfriend,” Louis whines, sounding like a spoiled child who just deserves to be spanked so hard he--- _No. Stop there brain._

“Oh, am I now?” Liam spits back, his tone getting sarcastic, and really, really annoyed. Because _fuck_ , this is giving so ridiculous he could cry.

Louis gasps. “Yes, you wanker. I took you home for Christmas, wasn’t it obvious?”

“I did think that you telling me you loved me was obviously meant to be true but apparently it isn’t so no, nothing is obvious or granted when it comes to you so would you care telling me why you always try to push me away?”

“Because even if I did have feelings for you–hypothetically speaking–what if it doesn’t work out? I lose one of the best people I’ve ever met because we wanted to make a great deal out of our relationship. _And,_ there’re also the guys. It would all end with them picking sides on whom to stay close friends with because we’d be doomed to never hang out in the same place at the same time ever again.

“And then they’d all get into fights and avoid each other’s looks in the hallway and I’d end up on the streets living with a little dog in a cartoon box and I’ll will uniquely maintain myself with booze, mosses and lichens and you know I don’t like dogs because they stink. And where would I pee and do my things? I’m already a mess as I am now, I will probably die in two days of dehydration and I still have things I wanna do before that.”

Louis pouts. Louis is fucking pouting and Liam can’t really deal with this anymore. And he doesn’t even want to point out the fact that their friends fighting doesn’t explain why would Louis find himself homeless because as already ascertained, Louis’ brain works in ways Liam is not willing to understand.

And then it hits him like a train. The lust, the want, the need. The warmth that blossoms between the gaps of his ribs, in the hollows of his throat, deep down his lungs.

And it isn’t something Liam thinks about often. It’s not like it’s that weird to have such wishes when it comes to the person you’ve been kind of dating for a while.

But it still is a surprise when he blurts out “I want you to ride my face and let me lick you out till you have to push me away” and _well_ , it wasn’t actually supposed to come out like _that_. You know, he was aiming for something a tad more romantic, but yeah, the thing is done now and from Louis’ harsh intake of breath he guesses Louis might be a little shocked.

Because, you see, in his and Louis’ relationship, Louis is the one delegated to do all the dirty things and to be inappropriate. Liam is not really good at that, and he just proved it now.

Liam raises his eyes to Louis’, and he sees the shock plastered on his face and before he can open his mouth to apologize and pretend he can blame tiredness for this sudden outburst, Louis lets out a moan and actually _pounces_ on him, making the bed dip and creak under their weigh.

The way Louis’ kissing him is anything but gentle, all the pretences of finesse thrown out the window as Louis’ hands curls around Liam’s erection through his briefs and breathes out a broken _yes_ and Liam’s not sure he’s ever heard something sounds as hot in his life as this.

He doesn’t even know how he manages to move Louis till he’s straddling his shoulders, boxers pooled around his knees, and his bum his up in the air in front of his face from where he’s propped with his torso slightly leant against the headboard of the bed. And Louis’ tight hole is so pink and Liam’s dying to put his mouth on the puckered skin of his entrance and savour the sweet taste inside.

When the tip of his tongue first leaves a little lick, Louis whimpers so loud that Liam almost startles. But after the first one Liam doesn’t seem to be able to stop, his tongue lapping with a restless and messy rhythm at Louis’ clenching hole, parting the soft and warm flesh of Louis’ arse cheeks with his hands, kneading and squeezing them till they turns a lovely shade of pink.

When Louis starts to move his hips in circles against Liam’s tongue, Liam pushes a finger inside, still licking around it and wetting the sensitive skin of the rim with each brush of his tongue. And this is so good, so good it seems surreal, and Liam wants to live in this moment forever, with the night sky stretching above this quiet town and just Liam and Louis and their warm bodies molding together.

Liam moves his finger, in and out, with slow, yet deep movements, basking in the pants Louis is letting out softly, getting lost in the blackness of the room.

"Fuck" Louis moans, keeping his voice hushed.

"Does that feel good, Lou?" Liam asks.

"Feels so good! Add another, Li, please!" Louis demands, feeling the strong desire of needing more than Liam is giving him.

This is so good that he almost doesn’t care that his dick is flat and painfully hard against his belly, pearls of precome dripping down the slit and staining his skin, because this, having his tongue at Louis’ hole, is enough now.

He adds a second finger, pushing them deeper and crooking them to rub against his prostate, and then adds another, loving the feeling of Louis’ entrance clenching around them and then getting loose again when Liam trails kisses all around. Liam lets out the most inhuman sound he can manage when he feels the warmth of Louis’ mouth enveloping his dick, and _fuck_ , this is too much, this is _so_ too much that he can’t breathe and he already feels like coming.

When he feels Louis nearing his orgasm, he pulls his fingers out, putting his hands back on each cheek and parting them so he can look at the shiny and wet rim, gaping and squeezing around nothing. It looks so beautiful with the feeble moonlight washing in through the window that if he had his phone at hand he would take a photo and use it as screensaver for the rest of his life.

Okay, that was random.

He pushes his tongue inside, deeper and deeper till he’s almost not able to breathe, and circles it around the soft walls, again and again till he hears Louis whimpering and coming, spurting against Liam’s belly and clenching harder that ever.

When Louis rolls onto his back beside him, Liam wipes a hand over his mouth, shiny and covered in spit, and sighs heavily.

“Well, that was interesting,” Louis manages, voice broken and low.

“Yeah,” he nods once, then keeps doing it because apparently that was _really_ interesting, like, wow, let’s do it again, like, now.

“Mhm,” and he sounds tired, more than everything.  

There is a short silence that follows, and settles over them. And Liam really hopes Louis hasn’t fallen asleep because that wouldn’t be nice, even though he knows Louis is the kind of guy that after an orgasm falls into a heavy and deep sleep so he wouldn’t be surprised.

When Louis’ breathing becomes low and shallow, Liam mutters “Merry Christmas Lou.”

Silence. Yep, he definitely fell asleep. Again, _blue balls_ , not funny at all and okay. He’s getting up now and running to that bathroom before he does something stupid like grinding his crotch against Louis’ side, because that would be _very_ stupid. And embarrassing.

“Liam?”

“Mh?”

“Can I ride you?” and well, who is Liam to deny something like this?

 

_

 

When they wake up again in the morning, there’s this kind of darkness that slips down their naked bodies and rolls around them.

Louis’ honey-colored skin is covered in goose bumps that Liam kisses like he’s afraid of hurting him. And it’s funny, seeing him so vulnerable and small, when you think about Louis, always so intent on looking strong and like nothing can really touch him. And this is his favourite Louis, sleepy and soft, when his walls are down and Liam can kiss him like it means more, like he doesn’t have to pretend it doesn’t.

There are a few pictures hanging up beside the door leading out into the hall. Pictures of Louis and his sisters as kids, one of him and Louis sprawled on Niall’s couch that Liam casually slipped inside his backpack a month or two ago when Louis fell asleep on his book during a very boring English lesson. It’s just a wall of little moments, little fragments of a lifetime Liam wasn’t there to share, others newer that are all washed out in Liam’s memory.

There are muffled clinking noise of pots and pans floating up from the kitchen downstairs and it seems like his vision is starting to blur around the edges, every noise sounding slow and far away. He likes it, and he also likes the sound of the raindrops pelting against the roof, the way the stormy light is stealing slowly over the walls.

Liam leans down, and brushes another kiss to Louis’s temple, and then watches him stir, yawning and blinking his eyes to adjust to the morning brightness.

He remembers the first time he saw Louis waking up beside him, grumpy and hungover with glitter all over his body and a penis drawn on his forehead. But Liam couldn’t see anything else but how Louis’ skin glowed under the autumnal sunlight streaming through the window, kissing his face in ways Liam was longing to for a long time.

When they are both showered and dressed with enormous jumpers and embarrassing fluffy Santa Claus socks, Louis rubs the backs of his eyes as he follows Liam into the kitchen, their socked feet padding across the cold wooden floor. Louis’ mum is fumbling with pans and various things Liam can’t place but this is not really the moment to point that out loud.

“Hi lovebirds, slept well?” she asks as she approaches them.

“Yes ma’am.”

She puts down the spatula she was holding and shuffles closer to close Liam into a tight embrace. “Oh Liam, I’m so happy Louis finally came around and asked you out. I knew he was head over heels with you the moment he told me how much he wanted to strangle you,” she grins, and Liam grins too because he can relate. That was the same thing her mother said to Louis a month ago when he came to Wolverhampton for a couple of days.

Liam hugs her back and breathes out “the pleasure’s all mine” against her neck, smiling softy.

She releases him and turns back to the stove. “Loubear could you please wake your sisters up?” Jay mutters while doing something with what Liam presumes being a crepes of something like that. Well, that’s why it’s written in the Penal Codethat a Liam and a Louis should never, under any circumstances, live together and/or share a narrow space for more than ¾ hours in a row if you don’t want aforementioned space to be set on fire and/or torn down to the ground.

And who’s Liam to argue with that?

He sees Louis picking up a pan and a wooded spoon, and _fuck_ , before he can do something to stop him, Louis’s marching his way to the bottom of the stairs, taking a deep breath and banging the spoon on the pan, shouting something that he thinks was meant to resemble actual words but that must have failed somewhere between the first “Boo, you idiot” from her mother and the slap he got from Liam on his head.                       

“ _Louis, I’m gonna murder you._ ” Lottie’s voice rings from the top of the stairs, followed by the sound of a door being ripped open. Then come four banshees running down the stairs, the twins nearly wiping out in their mad dash to the living room. Fizzie and Lottie follow shortly after, except a lot less enthusiastic, all with dishevelled and annoyed looks on their faces.

“What _time_ is it?” Fizzie groans.

“Time to open the presents, you lazy bums” Louis cries, grinning proudly over at Liam who was trying to plan an efficient way out without anyone noticing.

Maybe next time.

_

After breakfast, they’re all ushered into the living room. Liam sits at the end of the couch with Louis nestled in close next to him, Lottie and Fizzy on the other side and the rest of the girls are sprawled out on the floor.

The wintry morning sunlight slants in through the window, and everything feels warmer and somehow like home, even though Liam doesn’t know all the corners and the secrets this house holds in its walls.

While Jay hands the present to the girls, Liam carefully places his own in front of Louis. He sees him watching the box snidely, as if he fears there might be a bomb or a virus like cholera inside.

Louis unwraps it with a face of pure indifference, that Liam would like to slap off but refrains because things could go messy from there on and he’s trying to make a good first impression.

This strong need just intensifies as Louis sees what’s inside, and his face assumes an annoyed quality to it that Liam doesn’t want to understand, but unfortunately he does.

It’s a pair of one of the most expensive headphones he could find, so maybe Louis would stop stealing Liam’s and then refuse to give them back because _you don’t need them anyway._

Louis puts the box down not so gently on the coffee table and mutters “I don’t want them,” crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

“Louis—“

“No. I don’t want them and you can’t make me.”

He sighs. “Louis, don’t be childish.”

“You are just trying to find another way to avoid me,” he mumbles, and Liam now might be  thinking that if he  had been a stronger person, he would be at home with his parents talking about Uni and the beautiful and very _normal_ guy he is dating, who loves him so much and actually knows how to boil an egg without setting the whole kitchen on fire.

Not that it’s important, mind him, but you know. It might be handy.

He’s making a plan in his mind to put himself out of the crap that’s at the edge of crashing down on him, and he settles on being indulgent, which serves both purposes of being mature and getting out of here alive and still with a boyfriend.  “You can still steal mine, okay?” he tries, because the ideal outcome of today has magically shifted from making a good impression to Louis’ mum to actually maintaining a bit of integrity, because he’s feeling himself teetering at the edge of a big melt down, which he doesn’t know how it happened  but--

Come to think of it, Liam should simply have bought a pair of headphones for himself and called it a day. But again, his brain doesn’t function as efficiently as he wishes.

Louis beams, plants a kiss to Liam’s lips and hands him a box. It seems quite small, and if Liam didn’t know better, he would think there’s nothing inside. But when he tears off the cute bow and wrenches open the paper around it, he peaks at the content and then gasps.

There, inside that little box, lie two yellow tickets, two _bloody_ yellow tickets for the Marvel’s convention in London that Liam has been rambling about for ages. He feel tears prickling his eyes, and no, he refuses to start crying here in front of Louis’ mum, and in front of Louis, because he knows far too well never to display things like _feelings_ in his presence.

But apparently life hates him and he’s not fast enough to wipe them away because then--

“He's going to cry," Louis says loudly. "Ewww. I'm out," he manages before he runs to the door and slams it behind himself.

Liam closes his eyes and nods once. They have a nice carpet, the colour is one of those that you can’t really label with a name because it’s too indefinite. It could look like purple, but it’s warmer, but not even fuchsia. He’s got to google that.

Liam doesn’t know what happened to his brain, or what remains of it.

Jay’s voice suddenly breaks Liam’s derailing train of thoughts, and she sounds unsurprisingly worried. “It’s—s everything alright darling?”

Liam does give it a thought.

No, it’s definitely not alright. Like-- _fuck_ , he’s dating a feelingsphobe, or something like that, when he himself is drowning with everything he’s feeling for this mess of a boy who still feels the need to pretend to be sleeping when he has to face a long drive with Liam. Because the silence would allow them to talk about something serious which might possibly be about their relationship or whatever the hell they are doing.

And he feels the corners of his mouth crooking into a smile, and it’s a tad strange considering how he’s feeling right now. Which—well, it’s kind of pathetic, but he doesn’t feel ashamed not even a bit. Except for how he maybe does.

He watches the carpet once more, thinks _couldn’t you be just fucking pink,_ and when he speaks, his voice is tapering off into a whisper.

“I just love him so much” and yeah, way to go Liam. Keep your dignity up like a pro.

Louis’ mum and Lottie share a look that Liam doesn’t want to acknowledge as pitiful.

Liam keeps sobbing.

 

_

 

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had. Why did I agree to this?”

“Because I’m cute and nobody else wanted to risk their life for some cookies,” Louis smiles sweetly while he keeps his eyes trained on the bowl full of dough that he’s mixing.

He has to add the eggs now, and Liam sees the hesitation in his eyes as he lingers in his movements like he doesn’t even know where to start. “Do you have any idea how to do this?” he asks gently, and trying not to sound too worried or impatient because he knows it won’t help Louis to stay calm and instead it will only set him in a bad and bitchy mood.

 “I saw someone doing it on the telly, does that count?” and he sounds hopeful, so Liam smiles down at him but takes two steps back just in case.

Liam hops onto the counter and watches as Louis whisks the eggs with sugar and attempt to look professional. There is a smile that tugs the corners of his mouth and a sensation that settles in. A sensation Liam can’t fully comprehend and maybe doesn’t need to, either. A sensation that drags along his skin and fills the grooves in his chest Liam didn’t know were even there to begin with.

He thinks it might be the taste of Louis’ lips that rolls across his tongue when Louis licks inside his mouth, the heat from the stove that soaks his skin through and makes the edges blurred and smudged, everything feels less sharp and yet more defined.

The jumper Louis’ wearing slips down his shoulder, and exposes the expanse of skin marred with bruises Liam left there last night when Louis felt impossibly tight and warm around him, that he couldn’t do anything but sit up and suck on his skin till it turned purple. And Liam just wants to drag him back to Louis’ bedroom and fall into each other in the way they do every time the room is dark enough Louis can pretend his heart isn’t beating in unison with Liam’s, where the edges of their bodies blur and Liam can kiss Louis’ skin without feeling the bitter after taste of fear underneath.

He watches him putting the tray inside the oven with a satisfied grin, dusting the flour off his hands once he sets the timer and the right temperature.

Which is definitely not right, far too high for cookies.

But Louis doesn’t have to know.

 

_

  
The cookies turn out very good.

They spend the rest of the afternoon snuggling together on the sofa, eating cookies with some warm milk while some Christmas movie plays on the telly.  Louis feels warm and solid against his side, and Liam wants to freeze this moment and everything he’s feeling right now, bottle it and hide it somewhere secret and then revisit these memories again and again. They kiss lazily till their lips hurt while Louis’ mum whip up some dinner and the girls are playing outside with the newly fallen snow.

When dinner is served, they eat in silence, and Liam smiles when Louis tangles they ankles together under the table.

They take a shower and Louis lets Liam fuck his throat until he’s raw and almost crying, his face burning, lips swollen. He swallows when Liam comes, collapsing against his thigh, and wanks off with Liam’s hand in his wet hair and touching his face, thumb rubbing over Louis’ bruised lips.

Afterwards, they shuffle into Louis’ room to watch a film, which is soon forgotten when Louis kisses him wetly, rutting against each other, fingers digging into Louis’ hips and cock pressing between Louis’ cheeks. He sucks countless bruises into Louis’ collarbones and Louis’ voice is so hoarse and broken from moaning and begging Liam to make him come that he barely recognizes it.

When Liam finally fingers him open, Louis is a writhing mess against the sheets. It’s quick and fast and rough, and leaves both of them shaking with the need for more. They barely clean themselves before they fall asleep in a tangle of limbs, too exhausted to talk.

 

__

 

They are supposed to be packing their things back into their rucksacks, and be ready to leave for Liam’s and prepare themselves for another round of homemade food and over-exited grandparents who pinch your cheeks and say the same old crap like “you’ve grown up so much poppet?” and Liam’s sister’s adoration for Louis’s bum. He can’t really bring himself to be jealous, because between the fact that he can’t physically blame her and the fact that Louis loathes vaginas more than Liam’s voice in the morning, he’s got a feeling their love---relationship— _thing_ , is safe for now.

The last time he entered the room Louis was  sat at the end of the bed making weird noises and when asked what the hell he was doing he answered “I’m trying to resuscitate a teddybear” which immediately set Liam in a I-really-don’t-wanna-know mood and he simply walked into the bathroom pretending it was okay, really.

He’s collecting his stuff in the bathroom, tidying random things inside the cabinets when he hears Louis talking on the phone, to Harry, Liam presumes. He knows for sure that Zayn and Niall would never deal with Louis Tomlinson and his whole existence this early in the morning and if it isn’t strictly necessary.

He really hopes he heard wrong because he might—

‘I’m never going to play the lead in whatever seedy mental porno you’re planning, filthy animal.”

What the—

“Leeeeyum, Hazzaboo want to talk to you,” he hears Louis shout from the bedroom.

He enters the room with a very unimpressed scowl, takes the phone and sighs. “Hi Harry, how you doin’?”

“Fine, I’m here with a very snoring Niall and a very horny Zayn, and I wanted to just wish you merry Christmas.”

Instead of reciprocating the greeting, he glares at Louis turned head and assumes the best angry voice he can manage. “Why were you two talking about porn again?” he asks, rubbing a hand on his face and throwing an annoyed face at Louis, who’s zipping his bag and giggling like an idiot.

“You know one day I will convince him. It’s just a matter of time.” Liam can imagine the grin plastered on Harry’s stupid idiotic face. If it wasn’t for the fact that Harry knows some very embarrassing things about Liam, that include a lot of alcohol, a inhibition-lacking Liam and  a mailbox (don’t ask), he would probably tell him something rude and not very nice, but he has an image to keep up, so he opts for shutting the fuck up for now.

“Zayn knows about this?” he asks tentatively.

“Obviously, he’s the one who’s encouraging me,” he scoffs, as if Liam must be stupid to think otherwise.

Louis crawls in bed till he’s straddling Liam’s waist. Liam looks up at him with a questioning face, and Louis face could have even fooled him into thinking it was something near innocent. “Well, just so you know, I’m not very happy about this, so, yeah.”

Harry is still talking on the other line, but Louis is whining from above, and if Liam’s is not mistaken, those are clearly the sounds Louis makes when he wants someone to give him attention, and rutting unconsciously against his crotch when he starts to bounce on him.

When Louis notices Liam has still done nothing to end the call, he opts for plan B.

“So how’s your sister?” Liam asks, and before Harry can answers, the little shit opens his mouth and--

“Oh, Liam! Oh, yes! Fuck me harder! Yes! Faster, _ugh_ , that’s the spot, yes yes yes!”

Liam goes red, raises his head to gape at Louis, who’s making the most obscene sounds and faces, and he isn’t even trying to keep it quiet. Liam wants to claw his own eyes out his skull. For fuck’s sake there are four underage girls in this house.

“ _Liam_?” Harry indignantly asks, then “Oh, Zayn, they’re doing it again,” he yells from the other line and Liam can’t bring himself to say something because what the fuck is he supposed to?

“Shit, yes! Do that thing you are so good with your tongue!”

“I wonder what that _thing_ is, eh?” Harry says then pauses. “Or actually wait, I don’t want to know. Oh _God_ , now I can’t stop thinking about it. Ah! It’s burning itself into my brain - goddammit!”

“Oh, God, fuck, yes, fill me with your seed, Liam!”

Harry hangs up.

Liam punches Louis in the face.

_

 

When they make their way to the car late that day, the morning fog has been burnt away by a distant looking sun that sits high in an opalescent sky. Everything is still and crystalline, glittering pleasantly.

They are all clustered onto the tiny porch in front of the house, bags in hands and smiles plastered on their faces. Jay moves to hug Liam one more time. “Hope to see you soon, Liam,” Jay murmurs, patting his back then letting him go.

He just smiles wider, not daring to speak right now because he feels so overwhelmed with feelings he could explode. They throw the bags on the backseats then climb into the car, waving at Louis’ mum before leaving the alleyway.

Not even five minutes into the drive, Liam has to pull over when Louis grips Liam’s jacket and pulls him in into a heated kiss he’s not willing to end any time soon.

“I had a great time babe,” Liam mutters against his lips, smiling fondly into the kiss and trailing his hand along Louis’s face.

“Thanks. I was really happy to have you there,” Louis says shyly, and it’s so strange and yet so beautiful to see him like this, insecure, as if he’s got any reason to.

“I love you,” he whispers against Louis’ dry lips, and he’s not embarrassed for how his voice cracks.He knows he’s crossing a line, intangible and yet still there, but he’s far too gone to even care.

Louis is looking at him with a panicked expression painted on his face, and somehow Liam knows what’s coming next.

“Psssssssrrrrrrrccccckkkkkkkkk,” Louis squacks.

“ _Louis_ ”

“Sorry, love, can’t hear you, going through a tunnel.”

“We are in a stop area--”

“Oops, you’re cutting out, what was that? I should call you tomorrow?”

Liam takes his face with both hands and fix their eyes together. “I know you care about me, even if you try to hide it,” he smiles, even though the thought is a tad sad, but no, not really. “You’re just like, unwillingly in love with me”

Louis smiles softly at him, reaching a hand up to tuck a strand of Liam’s hair back up. “I know babe, hard times for both”

Liam groans, and drops his head against the steering wheel.

Without further comment he starts up the car again and just drives. He might do something extremely embarrassing if he doesn’t busy himself. Like starting to cry and beg Louis to love him and have his babies.

Which is so _not_ what he wants, obviously, but.

A sort of lingering silence settles, the snow is falling, blanketing the road with ivory whiteness and Liam takes Louis’ hand in his own and let them rest on the dashboard.

“Liam.”

Liam keeps his eyes trained on the road but a smile lick its way on his face. “Yeah babe?”

“When we get back can you bend me over the kitchen table and let me call you daddy till you’ll get tired of it and then make me choke on your beautiful cock?”

Liam does choke on his own saliva and nearly crashes the car against the guardrail. “Your jokes make me want to vomit,” he says.

Louis just laughs, throwing his feet up on the dash and reclining his chair. “So does your face, but I’m not here complaining, aren’t I?” he smiles ever so loving and kind and polite, even when he says such thing.

Liam pinches his side but says nothing else.

He still doesn’t know what they are doing, falling in love with each other like it means nothing but not doing anything to stop the fall. But it’s okay, because Louis is holding his hand back and his skin feels impossibly warm and soft against his own.

For now, that’s enough

-

 

That night, when outside is pitch black and the moon is hanging high in the starry sky, Liam makes a great job of snoring (with his nose, obviously) and he hears Louis sighing softly against his neck and whispering “I love you so much” that he’s sure wasn’t supposed to be heard, but he definitely did and as sure as fuck he’s going to give Louis so much shit for it he won’t ever forget it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> waaaah don't hate me please.
> 
>  
> 
> [ [tumblr post] ](http://poopydoopylou.tumblr.com/post/76972732980/the-war-outside-our-door-keeps-raging-on-hold-onto)


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